


Promises To Keep

by angstytimelord



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Confessions, M/M, Will Finds Out, conflicting emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:01:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 14,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstytimelord/pseuds/angstytimelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can Hannibal give up his serial killing and cannibalism for a life with Will? He isn't sure, but he intends to try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Deceiver

"I love you," Will whispered, his voice merely a breath of air.

Hannibal closed his eyes, his arms tightening around Will as the young man leaned back against him. That wasn't something he'd expected to hear just yet, even though he was sure that Will had been feeling it for some time now. 

He simply hadn't thought that Will would put his emotions into words so soon, that he would let his feelings be known. Hannibal had thought he would wait.

But then, his Will was full of surprises. It was one of the reasons that Hannibal had fallen in love with him; Will was never exactly what he expected, and he liked that. He was never bored with Will; this was one person he would never get tired of being with.

How would Will feel when he learned the truth? Would his love evaporate then, or would he be able to see past what Hannibal was and still care for him?

He had already decided that he was going to stop killing. He would even give up his .... "special" way of preparing food. He would give up everything that Will could possibly think was horrific about him, just to be with this young man forever.

Will meant that much to him.

He had been deceiving his young lover for far too long, Hannibal thought with a soft sigh. It was time to be honest with Will, to let him know just who and what he was, and try to explain to Will _why_ he'd done those things. It was time to come clean.

Doing that wouldn't be easy; he knew that he would see horror in Will's eyes, and possibly fear. But he had to take that chance.

He couldn't keep lying to Will. Not if he wanted them to have a future together. Eventually, he would be found out, and then Will _would_ leave him. There was no doubt about that. Will wouldn't stay in this relationship if the lies built and multiplied.

The last thing in the world he wanted was to lose Will. That wasn't an option. He wanted to keep his lover with him forever, always by his side.

He hadn't thought that he would fall in love with Will. He'd thought that he was impervious to what he called the weaker emotions, and it had come as a surprise to him that he'd fallen prey to such feelings. But now that he had, he could no longer deny them.

He had always been a deceiver. But that had to stop.

Will deserved to know the truth. He deserved to be able to make his own decisions about his future, and what he wanted to do with this relationship.

If Will chose to leave, then he would have to accept that, though his heart would be broken. Still, he hoped that he would be able to convince his young lover to stay with him, convince him that he would give up all that he'd done, all that he had been for so long.

He had to. He had no choice in the matter. If he wanted to keep Will with him, he could no longer be the killer that he had long ago become used to being.

Appearances were deceiving. He'd known that for a very long time. He had deceived everyone around him into believing that he was a law-abiding citizen, that he wasn't the type of person who went in for wholesale killing, that he was a good man.

He knew that he wasn't, but he was ready to try and traverse that path. For Will. For their relationship. He was ready to do anything to keep his young lover by his side, in his arms, in his bed. For Will, he would try to live up to the appearances he had always presented.

"I love you, too," he murmured, knowing that the words had to be said. He could no longer hold them back. He had to say them aloud, finally.

And now that he had, he could almost _feel_ his heart opening up. It was as though saying the words aloud, admitting his innermost feelings to Will, had freed something within him. He felt rejuvenated, reborn. He felt as though he could conquer the world.

Yes, he _would_ be able to stop killing. His cannibalism, his murders were now a thing of the past. With Will by his side, he didn't need them any more.

All he needed was Will, and his love.

With Will here, in his arms, he felt contented. Whenever they made love, and he held Will afterwards as the young man was drifting off to sleep, he felt that same contentment. It was a feeling that he'd never had before; it was one that he wanted to keep.

He wanted this contentment, this _happiness_ , to stay with him forever. And Will was the only chance he had to keep that happiness in his life.

Without Will, that happiness would disappear, evaporate like steam. He didn't want that to happen; being with Will was the first time since he'd been a very young child that he'd felt true happiness. He wasn't ready to let it go; he didn't ever want to give it up.

He had never thought he would find this kind of happiness in his life. He had to do everything he could to ensure that it would stay.

If that meant giving up what had been a part of him for so long, then he would gladly do it. He would stop being a deceiver; he would be honest with Will about everything from now on. He simply had to take that first, most difficult step into honesty.

What would Will do? Would he run, or would he understand?

"I was afraid to say it," Will admitted, sounding sheepish. "I was afraid those words would make you run away. But I'm glad I could finally get it out, Hannibal. I've wanted you to know for a while just how I felt about you. It's a relief to have it out in the open at last." 

Hannibal nodded, a small smile on his lips. He needed that relief himself. He needed to let Will know about who he was, and why he'd been that way.

Would he feel better once he'd done it, and Will had reacted in whatever way he did? Would he lose Will for good with those words, or would he be able to bind his young lover closer to him? He had no way of knowing just what would happen once the truth was out.

But whatever happened, he knew that he had to be honest. He couldn't keep deceiving Will any longer. The time for that deception was past.

It was time. Time to stop being something that Will would run from, and to start being the man he wanted, the man he would be proud to be with. Time to stop being a deceiver. Hannibal opened his mouth, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. It was time to say the words.

"Will, I have something very important to tell you."


	2. The Hounds of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Hannibal attempts to confess his secrets, Will's reaction isn't what he'd hoped it would be.

"What is it?" Will asked, turning his head to look up at Hannibal, a slight smile on his lips. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. It's not going to scare me off."

 _Oh, if only you think the same way a few moments from now_ , Hannibal told himself, hoping that Will would indeed be understanding, that he would believe what he said when he swore that he was going to give up the things in his past that Will would deem wrong.

"Will, I ...." He suddenly didn't know where to start; it all seemed enormous, as though there was far too much to be simply put into a few concise words.

Will turned to face him, his brow furrowed with a frown, his intense blue gaze searching Hannibal's face. "Just say it, Hannibal," he said, his voice very soft. "Whatever it is, I can take it. As long as you don't say you want us to break up," he added, sounding worried.

Hannibal almost laughed as he shook his head. "No, Will, it's not that. Anything but that. The two of us parting is not an option for me."

Will nodded, looking relieved at his words.

He still didn't know how to say this, didn't know how to make it seem more palatable. The only thing he could do was spit it out, so to speak.

"Will, I ...." he began again, then took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Will, there are many things you don't know about me. Many things that I want to tell you. I simply want you to listen, to give me a chance to explain all of these things to you."

Again, the words stuck in his throat. But he had to get them out, had to say them to Will. And somehow, he had to convince Will that he wasn't a bad person.

That was going to be the hardest part of all this. Will had such a highly developed sense of right and wrong; he would never be able to live with the fact that his lover, the man who he had given his heart and his body to, had killed so many people.

Not only killed them, but turned them into meals -- some of which Will had eaten. What was he going to think when he discovered _that_ particular little secret?

Hannibal sighed, opening his eyes again, unsure of how to go on.

How could he phrase this? How could he make all that he'd done sound as though it wasn't so terrible? He himself didn't think it was, but Will undoubtedly would.

Will was watching him intently, that slight frown still furrowing his brow. Hannibal hated to see him like that, hated to make him worry. He could guess what was going through Will's mind now; he probably thought that this was leading to a breakup.

Of course it wasn't. It never would, not if he had his way about it. Not if he could somehow make Will see all that he had done in a light that didn't make him look like a monster.

"Will, I'm not the man you think I am," he finally began, wishing that he could put this in any other way -- no, wishing that it was already over and done with, that the words were already said, and that Will accepted him as he was and still loved him.

"I don't quite know how to say this, so I'm simply going to say it bluntly, and hope that you'll let me explain," he continued, praying that Will would do just that. "Will, I'm the serial killer that you've spent so long searching for. I am the Chesapeake Ripper."

Will only stared at him for a moment, blue eyes wide, then shook his head. "Hannibal, that's not funny. It's not something you should joke about."

"I'm not joking, Will," he said, wishing desperately that there was some other way to do this. But the words had to be said, and they had to be gotten out quickly. "I _am_ the serial killer you want to catch. I've been killing for almost my whole life. Longer than you know."

Will's mouth opened, his blue eyes widening even more as the words sank in. Something in his face must have convinced his young lover that he was telling the truth.

Will was gazing at him in abject horror.

He was backing away, not even giving Hannibal a chance to explain himself, not letting any more words get through to him. He was simply .... shutting it all out.

This wasn't how he had wanted the truth to come out. He hadn't wanted Will to be horrified by his words. He had known that was a distinct possibility, but he had hoped against hope that it wouldn't happen, that Will would give him a chance to explain himself.

Still, how could something like this be explained to a person like Will? He would never be able to see the subtle gradations of gray in the black and white of his right and wrong.

There were so many shades of gray. So many reasons for him to have become what he was. He wanted to change, and he wanted to let Will know that he was willing to change. But Will apparently wasn't going to give him the chance that he wanted.

Without a word, Will turned from him, running down the front steps and into the woods. In less than a split second, Hannibal was down the stairs and after him.

He had to catch Will, had to hold him, had to explain.

He couldn't let Will think that he was evil. He couldn't let Will be afraid of him. He had to explain all that he had done, had to let Will know that he was giving it all up. He couldn't let Will think badly of him. He couldn't let his lover run out of his life.

He wasn't going to hurt Will, but he didn't know how to make that clear. Will probably thought he was going after him to kill him, to keep him quiet.

No, he would never do that. He trusted Will not to tell anyone about him; he knew that even thought Will might want to do so, he was the sort of person who would follow his heart and not his head. Hannibal was putting all of his faith and trust in the man he loved.

He just had to catch up with Will to let him know that. But Will was running away in horror, running for his life, crashing through the woods as if the hounds of hell were at his heels.

Maybe he qualified as one of those hounds, Hannibal thought as he ran after Will. But he would have to do his best, once he caught the younger man, to convince him that hell wasn't after him, and that he could learn to live with what he was going to hear.


	3. Rookie Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will knows that his romantic inexperience has led him into the possibly fatal mistake of falling in love with Hannibal.

Mistake. Rookie mistake. This was what he got for having no experience.

He'd been in love. How had that love turned to fear so quickly, with just a few words? How could it have all come crashing down around him?

But it had. He couldn't deny that. The love was still there, but fear overrode it all -- especially as he could now hear Hannibal crashing through the undergrowth of the woods after him, running behind him, chasing him. The man who was his lover -- and a killer.

He didn't doubt that Hannibal was telling the truth. He'd seen it in those dark eyes, known that the words coming from his lover's mouth were honest.

He was in love with the Chesapeake Ripper. Hannibal had been committing these murders while they were together, knowing that Will was searching for the killer. Hannibal had been _lying_ to him all this time, lying about who he really was.

Lying about _what_ he was, pretending to be an upstanding citizen when he was a murderer. And yet, Will still loved him. That love wouldn't just disappear.

His world was falling apart around him, and all he could do was run.

He had to run away from the mistake he'd made, try to outrun his heartache. He'd been a rookie at this; he had known that not having any sexual experience, or any experience with romantic relationships, was going to be what destroyed this first one.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Mistake, mistake, mistake. The words seemed ot echo in his head as he ran, each one punctuated by the rhythm of his footsteps.

How could he have been so blind? He'd known that there was something different about Hannibal, something that set him apart from everyone else, but he had ignored that fact and told himself that Hannibal was simply exotic, foreign, with different ways and traditions.

But it had been more than that. Hannibal had been hiding a killer behind those eyes, those words, all those gestures of love that he'd made.

 _Did_ Hannibal really love him? Will didn't have the answer to that question, and he couldn't stop to think about it. All he wanted to do right now was get away from his lover, hide from him, push Hannibal out of his life until he could make some decisions.

Those decisions were going to be exceedingly hard to make.

What was he supposed to do, just turn his lover over to the authorities? He couldn't do that. He had shared too much with Hannibal, his body and his heart.

He couldn't simply let the man he loved be taken away. He couldn't watch Hannibal go through a trial and go to the jail for the rest of his life, or worse, be given the death penalty. Even if he was guilty -- and Will didn't doubt that he was -- he couldn't set those wheels in motion.

He couldn't be the instrument of Hannibal's destruction. Despite what the other man was, Will loved him too much to be his betrayal.

It was crazy to want to protect Hannibal. He had admitted to being the Chesapeake Ripper. There was no way that Will could keep that to himself.

But he had to. He couldn't let Jack Crawford put Hannibal in jail, couldn't let anyone take his lover from him. Maybe Hannibal was confessing because he meant to stop. Maybe he was filled with remorse for all of the crimes he'd committed, and wanted to atone for them.

Or was he at heart a killer, and always would be? Was he even now crashing through these woods after Will to hunt him down and murder him?

Will wasn't sure that he wanted to know the answer to that question.

He quickened his pace; he was sure that he could hear Hannibal closing in, and he didn't want to be caught. But where could he go? He was so isolated out here; his nearest neighbor was over three miles away. It didn't take long to drive there, but running? Forget it.

He'd never make it to the neighbor's house before Hannibal caught him. He was used to running, but his lover was in better shape than he was, and he knew it.

What would Hannibal do once he caught Will? Hannibal was a killer. He would probably do what he did best -- he would kill. It would be all too easy for him to snap Will's neck; just the thought of that made the young man's hand fly to his throat.

He was fighting a losing battle here. As long as he ran, Hannibal would be able to hear him. The best thing he could do would be to find a place to hide.

Hide? How was he supposed to do that? These trees wouldn't cover him at all, and there wasn't enough of the undergrowth for him to hide behind. He was trapped in the woods, with a killer chasing him. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to turn.

There was nowhere for him to hide. He was helpless prey.

Well, he couldn't simply stand here and wait for Hannibal to swoop down o him, like a hawk looking for a rabbit. He had to at least attempt to save himself.

He had indeed made a rookie mistake when he'd let himself fall in love with Hannibal and had given himself to the other man. That was what made this so hard. If he didn't love Hannibal, he would have been able to deal with this so much more efficiently.

He'd compounded that mistake by running, really. He should have been calm, gone back into the house and gotten his gun, and held it on Hannibal while he called the cops.

Will closed his eyes, unsure of what he should do. He couldn't run. He couldn't hide. That reasoning was only driven home a moment later when Hannibal walked out from the cover of a few trees to stand in front of him, his voice low and husky when he spoke.

"Will, I won't hurt you. Please let me explain."


	4. No Easy Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal tries to explain to Will that he wants to put the past behind him and start fresh.

He stood facing Will, gazing into those intensely blue eyes for long moments.

Then Hannibal reached out to grab Will's arm, eliciting a soft cry from the young man. He refused to take heed of that cry; he needed Will to listen to him.

"Will, I'm sorry you had to find out this way," he said softly, his grip tightening on Will's arm. "I hadn't intended to just blurt it out. I'd wanted to tell you when were more comfortable, but I couldn't keep it in any longer. You needed to know."

Will tried to wrench his arm free, but Hannibal was much stronger than he was. There was no way he would have the chance to run away again.

"So what are you going to do now, Hannibal? Kill me, so I can't tell anybody else your dirty little secret?" Will's voice was scornful, but Hannibal could hear the fear under the words. "That's really all you _can_ do, isn't it? How am I going to die?"

Hannibal shook his head as he pulled Will close against him, the young man's back against his chest, and buried his face in Will's soft dark curls.

"I could never harm you," he whispered. "Never. Not you, Will."

It was true. He could never do anything to harm Will. Not the love of his life, not the young man who he wanted to give up his .... unusual pursuits for. He had made up his mind; he was no longer going to live the life he'd led for so long.

He had no need of that life any more, not now that he had Will. He could be like other people now. He didn't have to kill. He could let himself love.

"Will, I have no intention of harming you," he murmured into the young man's ear. Will wasn't squirming or struggling in his arms, but Hannibal wasn't fooling himself that it mean Will wouldn't try to suddenly break free of him and run again.

"Yeah? Then why did you even tell me?" Will's voice was almost a cry of pain,and it broke Hannibal's heart to hear it. "I didn't need to know."

"Yes, you did," Hannibal said with a resigned sigh. "I don't want to keep living the way that I have been, Will. I want to give it up. I want us to be together, to be with you for a lifetime. I no longer want the sort of life I've had. I don't want to hid anything from you any longer."

The silence all around them was almost deafening.

"Then don't," Will finally said, standing stock-still in Hannibal's grip. "Tell me why you've done what you have. Try to make me understand."

"I wish I could," Hannibal said with a soft sigh. "All I can do is assure you that I have stopped, and that it won't continue. I don't need that in my life now, Will. Now that I have you, now that I have love in my life, the killing no longer fills a void."

"Is that what murdering all those people did for you? Fill a void?" Will sounded curious now, along with the anger. "Is that all you have to say about it?"

"That's all I _can_ say," Hannibal told him, sighing again. "It's just .... always been a part of me, Will. I don't know how to explain it fully to you. I don't think I can."

How could he tell Will that he wasn't like other men, that he had always felt he was merely wearing a human mask that covered something less than human, rather than actually being a part of the human race? If he said that, he would only terrify Will further.

"I'm sorry for all that I've done, Will," he murmured, shaking his head. "I'll always regret it. But I can't go to prison for it. I can't lose my freedom. And I hope that you won't let me."

There. That was really all he could say. He'd done what he could.

Will was still standing motionless in his arms, but Hannibal didn't dare let him go just yet. He was sure that if he showed any signs of loosening his grip on Will, the young man would bolt, and then he would have to chase him down again.

He wasn't going to hurt Will, but neither was he going to let his young lover turn him into the authorities. He had to extract a promise from Will that it wouldn't happen.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Will spoke, his voice soft and subdued. "You know I can't turn you in," he whispered, the words sounding broken and defeated. "I love you too much. I don't want to see you behind bars, or spend the rest of my life without you."

"It might not be for the rest of your life, Will," Hannibal forced himself to say. "They could decided that I can be rehabilitated."

Of course, he knew that wasn't true, and so did Will. Once the authorities caught up with him -- if they ever did -- they would put him behind bars, and never let him go. He would spend the rest of his life in prison, locked away from his beloved Will.

He couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't. Not now, and not ever.

"I won't take that risk," Will said, his voice catching in his throat. "It doesn't matter to me what you've done, not if you promise that you'll stop."

"I _do_ promise," Hannibal said, his voice strong and firm. "I don't intend to kill any more, Will. I don't need it. I don't _want_ it. Not with you in my life. You've made me a stronger man. A better man. There is no need for what I used to cling to. Not any more."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Will asked, his voice very quiet. "You should have known that you could trust me, that I wouldn't turn you in."

"I'm sorry, my love," Hannibal murmured, resting his cheek against Will's hair. "I was afraid. I didn't want to lose you, to make you run from me, and I was sure that you would. You did today. I'm only glad that you've given me the chance to explain."

Will nodded, sighing softly as he turned in the circle of Hannibal's to face his lover, gazing at him with wide blue eyes. "So .... where do we go from here? What now, Hannibal?"

Hannibal could do nothing but gaze back at him in silence. There were no easy answers.


	5. Walking Through Syrup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal's confession seems like a surreal dream to Will, with no connection to the man he knows in reality.

Everything that Hannibal had told him felt .... surreal.

It couldn't possibly be true. The man he loved, the man he had been involved with for several weeks now, the man he was _sleeping_ with, the man he'd given his virginity and his heart to, couldn't possibly be the dreaded Chesapeake Ripper.

He was dreaming all of this. Yes, it had to be a dream. This couldn't possibly be reality. This wasn't the real world, with Hannibal telling him these horrible things.

He felt as though he was walking through syrup, trying to navigate a path that had quickly become too hard for him to find his way along. He didn't want to believe what Hannibal was saying to him, yet he knew that the words had to be the truth.

Hannibal wasn't the kind of man who would lie about this.

He wasn't making this up for fun. It wasn't a joke. Hannibal, his lover, the man he wanted to spend his life with, was the Chesapeake Ripper. It seemed unbelievable, yet here was the truth, staring him in the face, a truth that he couldn't deny.

How was he going to cope with this?

How was he going to explain to himself just _why_ he wasn't already running for the phone to turn his lover in to the authorities? How could he justify his actions?

This wasn't just some joke that Hannibal was making up. It wasn't a game that was being played. It was very real, and very serious, not some kind of surreal dream.

He should turn Hannibal in. He should have already called the cops.

But he couldn't do it. Hannibal was his lover, the man he'd given himself to, the man he wanted to spend his life with. It was inconceivable that the man who had made love to him, who had sworn eternal devotion, was a serial killer who'd taken countless lives.

Yet it was. It was the truth. And he didn't know how to cope.

Every breath he took felt as though it was drenched in blood; he was walking through syrup, trying to climb uphill even though his feet kept slipping out from under him. He was losing his footing, drowning in the uncertainty that his world had become.

What was he going to do? How was he going to reconcile himself to the fact that his lover was a killer -- and what was he going to do about it?

Will didn't know what he was going to do. He'd promised Hannibal that he wouldn't turn him in -- yet. But he needed to think about how he was going to fit this new information in with the life he led, the life that he'd been comfortable with until just a few hours ago.

The life that now felt as though it had shattered into a million pieces around him.


	6. Sorry Seems To Be the Hardest Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal hadn't expected it to be so hard to apologize to Will for what he's always been.

It shouldn't have been so hard to tell Will that he was sorry.

Hannibal sighed, raising a hand to rub at his eyes. He had been waiting all day either for a phone call, or for Will to show up at his front door.

Really, he should expect the police to show up at the front door, Will along with them. He had been thinking all morning that it would happen, but it was now late afternoon, and it had been a peaceful day. Perhaps Will had been truthful, after all.

He had no reason to believe that his young lover would change his mind, or renege on what he had said. No, Will wouldn't turn him in.

Will loved him too much to do that, and he had shamelessly played on the younger man's feelings for him. Perhaps that hadn't been the best thing to do, but he'd had no other choice, Hannibal told himself with a sigh. He hadn't known what else to do.

He couldn't spend his life in prison, locked away from Will. He couldn't. He had to be with Will, had to keep his freedom to spend his life with the man he loved.

Hannibal sighed softly, resting his head in one hand.

He was lying to himself if he said that he was doing this just for Will, giving up what he was and had been all of his life. He was doing it for himself, too.

The police would close in on him eventually, especially with Will's empathic abilities to guide them. He'd not have been able to hide for the rest of his life; maybe for a few more years, if he was lucky. His reign would have eventually come to an ignominious end.

But now that he had confessed his sins to Will, and had sworn to rehabilitate himself and stop the killing, he had set himself on a new path.

He had tried to tell himself that he was doing this for Will, so that his young love would be in a relationship with someone who was on the straight and narrow, someone who was honest with him and had no secrets to keep. But that wasn't entirely true.

He was giving up what he had always been to save himself. Yes, he wanted to keep his relationship with Will alive, but that was really secondary, wasn't it?

It had been so hard to say that he was sorry, to give up a part of himself.

It was like denying who he was and had always been, ever since his childhood. He hadn't expected it to be that painful, saying goodbye to all of that.

He _had_ to give up all of that up, if he wanted to retain his freedom and keep moving his relationship with Will forward. Hannibal knew that. But still, it was wrenching to say goodbye to something that he had done for so long and grown comfortable with.

For a moment, just one brief moment, he allowed himself to think that maybe, just maybe, Will could get used to what he was, and accept it.

But that wasn't going to happen, and he knew it all too well. Will had far too developed a sense of right and wrong to be able to look away from what he was.

The only reason Will wasn't turning him in was because of their relationship, because of the love they had between them. If the love they shared ever soured, Hannibal knew that Will wouldn't hesitate to do what he thought was right, and his freedom would be taken from him.

A more practical man would tell himself that his one option would be to get rid of Will, even though doing so would cause him untold pain.

But he couldn't do that. He couldn't simply dispatch the man he loved.

Then he _would_ have much more to be sorry for than he had now. He would end up spending the rest of his life apologizing to someone who wasn't there.

And he would end up apologizing to himself for depriving his life of the one love he would ever know, of the most wonderful man he could ever have hoped to be with. No, he wouldn't be able to do that. He wouldn't be able to rid himself of Will's presence.

He _needed_ Will. He always would. Will was a part of him, the _best_ part. He had to risk his freedom to keep Will in his life.

But yet, it was a hard decision to make. Sorry seemed to be the hardest word he'd ever have to say, giving up a large part of who he was, of what had made him the man he was today, was the most difficult thing he'd ever had to face doing.

Still, he was doing it, Hannibal told himself firmly. For Will. For their relationship. For the love that he needed in his life, the love that he wanted to keep there forever.

And for his freedom, which just might be the most important thing of all.

Sorry had seemed to be the hardest word he'd ever said, even though he _felt_ sorry for all that he'd done when he thought of how the knowledge would hurt Will.

But it seemed that in the end, he'd been right to humble himself and say that he was sorry, even though he had to wonder if he _really_ felt all that contrite. Will hadn't turned him in, after all; Will had let love take over, and had listened to his heart.

All he would do now was hope that his young lover would continue to do so, and that he would be able to be true to his promise and change his ways.

He would have to, wouldn't he? He'd promised Will, and he didn't take promises that he made to his lover lightly. Will would expect him to live up to those promises, and he owed it to the man he loved to at least try his best to do just that.

But .... perhaps he would be able to keep doing what he had always done, if he was very, very careful and kept it from Will. He was sure that he could.

It would be a challenge, one that he was sure he could conquer.


	7. Under His Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is appalled and disgusted to know that he's been captivated by Hannibal.

Just thinking about being with Hannibal made him feel dirty.

Will closed his eyes, squeezing them shut, wishing that he didn't have to let reality sink in. He didn't want to think about the past.

He didn't want to think about all that Hannibal had been to him, all that he _thought_ he had been to the other man. It was all so clear to him now. Hannibal had never truly loved him. Hannibal had meant to _kill ___him. He was nothing more than another victim.

He'd been so stupid to think that such a monster could love. Even though he hadn't known what Hannibal was, he'd know there was something not quite right about them.

Their relationship had always felt off, always seemed slightly odd.

He should have been able to see what Hannibal was. He should have known that his lover was nothing more than an evil, unrepentant monster.

Oh, Hannibal could _say_ all that he wanted that he would change, that he was sorry for what he had done. But Will had seen his eyes -- and there had been no genuine remorse there. He had only seen slyness and cunning, no real sorrow.

Hannibal had no heart. He was subhuman.

How could he have ever thought he _loved_ someone like Hannibal? The man was nothing that Will had mistakenly thought he was.

He was a serial killer. A murderer. He only kept the guise of being a benevolent psychiatrist who helped people. He didn't want to actually _help_ anyone.

It appalled Will that he had fallen under the spell of such evil.

He was appalled that he'd ever let Hannibal touch him. He had s strong urge to run into the bathroom, turn on the water in the shower as hot as he could get it, then get in and scrub himself until his skin was raw, trying desperately to rid himself of Hannibal's touch.

He felt dirty. He felt _tainted_. Knowing what he now knew, he was sure that he would always feel unclean, that he would never rid himself of that taint.

He would always hate himself for falling under Hannibal's spell.

Well, he couldn't change the past, Will told himself firmly. It was over and done. What he had to manage to do now was figure out what he would do about the future.

He wasn't going to let himself feel dirty. He hadn't known what Hannibal was, even though he somehow felt that his empathy should have given him some kind of clue. But it hadn't, and he wasn't going to blame himself for that. It would be counterproductive.

He had to decide just what he was going to do, what he would say. He had an obligation to two different sides, and he had no idea yet which one he would choose.

All he could do was hope that he'd make the right decision in the end.


	8. Seeing the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will ponders what he should do now that he knows the truth about Hannibal.

Why had it taken him so long to see the truth?

He should have realized what Hannibal was from the start, Will berated himself. He had always known that there was something off about the man, something that wasn't quite right. But he would never have guessed just what it was on his own.

Why had his empathy not told him that there was something seriously wrong with this man? How could he not have realized what kind of evil lurked behind those eyes?

He sighed softly, closing his eyes and resting his head on his hand. Because he had been too blinded by his own feelings for Hannibal, that was why. He hadn't wanted to believe the sense he had gotten that there was something not quite right about their relationship.

Could he turn Hannibal in? Could he turn on the man who had been his lover, letting all that he'd felt for him turn from love into repulsion?

He wasn't sure. He knew that he _should_ go to the police immediately, but he couldn't bring himself to do that right now. It was the right thing to do, but at the moment, his heart didn't want him to do the right thing. It wanted him to hide.

Of course, he couldn't do that for very long.

If he didn't tell the authorities the truth about Hannibal, then the man would keep killing. Will was sure that fact was irrevocable.

Serial killers didn't stop killing, no matter how much they might say they would, or even how much they might _want_ to. It was a part of their psychological makeup that they _had_ to kill. Something in them thrived on it. They couldn't stop.

He didn't doubt that Hannibal _wanted_ to stop. For him. For the possible future of their relationship. But he knew that it wouldn't happen.

Whatever was left of their relationship would never be the same. He could never let Hannibal make love to him again; he could never touch the other man again without thinking of what Hannibal was, of the things he had done. They were over, finished forever.

Will knew that wasn't what Hannibal wanted, and it wasn't really what _he_ wanted, either. But it was inevitable. He couldn't love a killer.

He could never feel the same way about Hannibal as he had before.

The thought made him want to cry. If only they could go back and erase what Hannibal had told him. If only he didn't know.

But he _did_ know, and there was no going back. There was no delete button, no redo. He had to live with what he knew, and he had to make some tough decisions about where his life was going from here. Nothing from here on out was going to be easy.

He was going back to the lonely life that he'd led before Hannibal. And he didn't think that he could ever trust his own judgement about people again.

But he'd rather be alone than be involved with a killer. Now that he knew the truth about Hannibal, he could never trust his former lover again.

He was already thinking of Hannibal in the "former" sense, Will realized. He was divorcing himself from the fact that they'd been a couple for a while, distancing himself from the relationship. He knew that he could never go back to it.

Things could never be as they had before. Hannibal's revelation had changed everything. The truth had come out, and Will knew that he couldn't live with it.

Yes, he loved Hannibal. But love wasn't enough. Not in this case.

He couldn't be involved with a killer. He would always be afraid that he'd make a wrong move, say one wrong thing, and he would be Hannibal's next victim.

He'd never be able to feel comfortable with his lover again. He was shocked to realize how many times his lover could have murdered him already; he had given Hannibal such complete control in their sex life that he could have already been a corpse several times over.

Why hadn't Hannibal killed him already? Maybe he had just been working up to that; maybe he'd intended for Will to be the icing on the cake of his murders.

Will sighed softly, closing his eyes. Or maybe Hannibal loved him too much to kill him. Maybe he was the one exception to the rule. But that didn't matter now; love wasn't a factor that could be allowed to play int the decision he had to make.

Should he go to the police, now that he knew the truth about Hannibal? Should he turn his lover over to the authorities, and turn his back on all they'd shared?

He really didn't have a choice, did he?

He _had_ to go to the authorities. He was a detective, an employee of the FBI. He couldn't let a killer go free; it would be wrong, and it would weigh on his conscience for the rest of his life. He'd never be able to get what he'd done out of his mind.

It would eventually drive him insane. He couldn't just ignore what Hannibal had told him; it would affect the rest of his life if he did.

Now that he knew the truth, he couldn't turn his back on it and ignore it. He couldn't simply pretend that he didn't know, no matter what Hannibal might want him to do. Hannibal was a murderer, and he didn't owe the man anything simply because they'd had a relationship.

That relationship was dead now; Will knew that. It caused him pain to admit it, but there was no way he could make himself be with Hannibal again.

The past was over, dead and gone. There was no way to get it back, no matter how badly he might want to. And maybe that was a good thing, he told himself with a soft sigh. If it hadn't ended this way, it would more than likely have ended with his own death.

He wasn't going to wait around for that to happen.

Hannibal was a killer. And with Will knowing his deepest secret, that would mean that Will's days would be numbered as long as Hannibal was a free man.

Will sighed softly, reaching for his cell phone. He'd made his decision; really, it had been made before he'd sat down and started pondering all of this. He _had_ to turn Hannibal in. He had no choice, not if he wanted to preserve his own life.

A killer would always be a killer, no matter what else they were. And now that he'd seen the truth, he wasn't going to risk being one of that killer's victims.

He took a deep breath, ready to tell Jack everything and set the wheels in motion.


	9. Life Upside Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that he knows the truth about Hannibal, Will feels that everything in his life has changed.

Everything had changed, and Will wasn't sure if he liked it.

He clicked off his cell phone before Jack could pick up, putting it down with a sigh. He couldn't bring himself to turn Hannibal in. Not now. Not yet. Maybe he would do it at some point. But at the moment, his emotions were in too much turmoil to do so.

And anyway, he didn't have _proof_ , which was what Jack would want. All he had was Hannibal's words to him, the confession he'd made.

Hannibal could refute that confession at any time. He could say that they'd had a lovers' spat, that Will was so angry at him that he'd made this wild story up. And Jack would more than likely believe him, as Jack was all too willing to dance to Hannibal's tune.

Jack would never believe him.

Even if he swore that Hannibal had confessed to being the Chesapeake Ripper, Jack would laugh him off -- or think that he was crazy.

Jack _already_ thought he was crazy, Will told himself, his inner voice tinged with disgust. Jack just wanted to use his empathy for his own gain, and then when he was done with Will, throw him away as if he had never existed, taking all the credit for himself.

That bastard would never believe that Hannibal had confessed to dozens of murders. He would never believe that his good friend Dr. Lecter was a killer.

Will believed it. He had seen the look in Hannibal's eyes when his lover -- no, now his _former_ lover -- had told him what he'd done.

Hannibal wasn't making a joke. He was absolutely serious when he'd told Will that he was a killer. Will had no doubt that Hannibal, for once, had been telling the unvarnished truth, and not playing mind games with him or trying to manipulate him in some way.

It was the truth. Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper, and knowing that changed everything between them. Hannibal could no longer be his lover.

He couldn't give himself to a killer.

And yet, he couldn't bring himself to turn Hannibal in. Was it because there was some part of him that still loved Hannibal, even though he knew his former lover's deepest, darkest secret? Or were there more secrets that were even worse than what Hannibal had already confessed?

Will shivered at the thought; if there were more secrets, then he didn't want to know. He wasn't even sure what he would do with his knowledge of this one.

He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to _feel_. Will only knew that everything about his life had changed within seconds, when Hannibal had uttered those few words that had sent his life topsy-turvy, upside down and inside out.

Any other changes that were made would be up to him.


	10. Contemplating Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal considers what he might have to do if Will decides not to keep his secret.

Had he made a terrible mistake by telling Will the truth?

Hannibal had no doubt that Will would be more conflicted over this than he'd ever been about anything. He wasn't altogether sure that Will would keep his secret.

What would he do if his young lover turned him in to the authorities? They would have no concrete proof; all they would have was Will's assertion of what had been said, nothing more. They certainly couldn't send him to jail on nothing but an accusation.

But that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted his relationship with Will to move forward, with no secrets, and no evasions. He wanted them to be together.

If Will turned him in, then that couldn't happen.

He would have to dispose of Will if his lover was so foolish as to make accusations against him. At some point, someone would want to prove those accusations true.

Hannibal didn't know who would be so stupid as to come looking for him, but he was sure that someone would. Possibly Jack Crawford, with that insatiable curiosity of his. But if not Jack, then _someone_ would. That was a foregone conclusion.

If Will made those accusations, he would have to be quieted. And there was no way to do that but to kill him, though it was the last thing that Hannibal wanted.

Doing away with Will would destroy something within him. He had only recently realized that he was in love; losing Will would destroy that part of him for good.

He had told Will his deepest, darkest secret in a moment of weakness. Now, he would have to trust that Will would keep that secret, even if he could never accept it. And he would have to trust that his lover had enough of a self-preservation instinct to think things through.

Will had to know that if he made any rash accusations, his life would be in danger. He had to know that Hannibal couldn't afford to let him become a weakness.

So far, no police had shown up at his door.

Hannibal hoped that they wouldn't; he didn't want to have to contemplate the loss of his lover. He would be devastated if he had to get rid of Will.

If he no longer had that light in his life, there would be a great deal missing from every day -- and the long nights alone would be almost unbearable. He could take other lovers, but no one would ever be to him what Will had been. No one ever could be.

Perhaps he had let Will become too much of a weakness, and the young man would be his downfall. But he hoped that scenario wouldn't come to pass.

Still, if it did .... he would be ready to do what he had to do.


	11. The Clock Is Ticking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has a hard time admitting the fact that in some ways, he's afraid of Hannibal.

He was afraid of Hannibal. He might as well admit it.

There was a yellow streak a mile wide painted down his back, and he could admit to that. He could admit that he was utterly terrified of what might come next.

If only he knew which way to turn, what steps to take.

Will sighed as he closed his eyes, resting his head in his hands. There had always been a part of him that was afraid of Hannibal, if he was brutally honest with himself. And now, that fear had grown exponentially, into something that threatened to swallow him whole.

He'd never felt completely at ease with Hannibal, not even when they were in bed together. Not even when Hannibal had said those three little words.

 _Did_ Hannibal love him? Was a serial killer even capable of feeling such an emotion? He had wanted to believe that Hannibal loved him, but now he had to wonder if he himself had ever really loved Hannibal, or if he had just loved the idea of _being_ loved.

But now that he knew the truth about Hannibal, he could no longer believe that he was loved, no matter what the other man might say.

Hannibal might be his lover, but it was almost impossible to believe that he could actually feel that emotion. Will knew far too much about serial killers to believe that, no matter how desperately he might want to think that Hannibal was different.

He'd been wrong. Hannibal was no different from any other killer.

He had learned long ago that serial killers had no capacity for love, or even compassion. They weren't like other people; there was something with their internal wiring.

For so long, he had tried to fool himself into thinking that Hannibal loved him, even though he'd always had the uneasy feeling that there was something about their relationship that wasn't quite like anyone else's. He had put it down to them being odd people.

But he should have realized that there was something wrong with Hannibal, something that made him cool and distant when he should be warm and passionate.

He should have known. He should have at least _guessed_.

But no, he had been too involved with what was happening between them, too caught up in the feelings that he'd been experiencing for the first time.

Not just the physical sensations, though those had been a big part of the attraction for him, as well. He had let himself get completely wrapped up in that physicality, ignoring the fact that Hannibal had seemed like less of a lover, and more of a _teacher_.

And now, he knew the truth, and it terrified him. Though if he faced that fear squarely, he had to admit that it wasn't just knowing the truth about Hannibal that frightened him.

He had to wonder if he would turn Hannibal in, or continue on with their relationship as though nothing had happened, as though he didn't know his lover's deepest, darkest secret.

Because it had to _stay_ a secret, unless he wanted Hannibal to be behind bars for the rest of his life. He couldn't tell anyone, couldn't let so much as a breath of what Hannibal had done slip to anyone else, or he could end up being the next victim.

Would Hannibal do that to him? Or did he honestly love Will enough to trust him not to divulge that secret, and let their lives go on as they had been?

Did he _really_ believe that Hannibal would let him live now?

Was Hannibal only playing with him? Had he told Will the truth so that he could play a cat and mouse game with him before dispatching him for good?

The thought made Will's heart rate speed up, his breath starting to come in little pants. He could feel what could only be terror rising within him -- terror of what could be coming next, from the person who he _should_ be able to trust more than anyone else.

No one should have to be afraid of their lover. No one should feel that their life was in danger because of the relationship they chose to be in.

No one should have to feel this conflicted.

Sooner or later he would have to see Hannibal, toll him what conclusions he'd come to and what decisions he had made. But did he really have a choice? If he told Hannibal that he intended to turn him in to the authorities, his lover would almost certainly kill him.

Or would he? Would Hannibal plead with him, and try to change his mind? Maybe he should listen to what the other man had to say before he made a final decision.

As much as he wanted Hannibal to pay for the crimes he had committed, he was still torn. What if his lover actually wanted to give up killing, and could manage to do so? What if he promised to leave all of that in the past for a life with Will?

Was Hannibal even capable of doing such a thing? Will closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts, his mind whirling, his senses reeling.

He was no longer sure of what he should think, or how he should feel. Everything within him told him that he should run as fast and as far as he could, for the preservation of his own sanity, and even his very life. He should turn Hannibal in, and let the police deal with him.

But something else within him raged against doing so.

He was caught between the proverbial rock and hard place, afraid to move decisively in one direction or the other. He didn't know what he should do.

He was pulled in two different directions, and neither of them seemed particularly safe. If he turned Hannibal in, he had no doubt that he would be a target, and that Hannibal would find some way of taking his revenge. He knew his lover too well to doubt that fact.

But at the same time, if he _didn't_ turn Hannibal in, then he would live in fear. That yellow streak he could sense in himself would get even wider, until it swallowed him whole.

He had no idea of which way to turn, where to go, or even what to think.

Will knew that he had to make a decision soon. He couldn't live with this indecisiveness, and the fear it had engendered in him, for very much longer.

He was running out of time, and the clock was ticking.


	12. Grand Passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal is determined to prove that he can give up his way of life for a future with Will.

His passion for Will wold never fade, never die away.

The passion he felt for his young lover was stronger than anything Hannibal had ever known, or would know. There was nothing more important in his life.

Which was why he intended to try to give up the life he'd been living and make a new life with Will. It was time for him to make an effort to throw off the chains that had held him back from doing so, even though those chains had bound him for years.

Will would never consent to make a life with him as he was, so he either had to give Will up, or be willing to change himself. And losing Will was _not_ an option.

Losing Will would be the end of him.

Somehow, he knew that to be an undeniable truth. If Will decided to turn him in, to put him behind bars, he would survive, yes, but he would be merely a shell, a husk of the man he had been. Without Will in his life, he would cease to exist as he was.

Will ws what gave him strength, brought him happiness. Will Graham had become indispensable in his life, whether he wanted to admit the fact or not.

It felt a bit strange to know that he literally _relied_ on anyone the way he did on Will. He had been so alone for nearly all of his life, relying on no one but himself, suppressing his emotions, that it was a new and almost exhilarating feeling not to be alone any longer.

Now, there was no loneliness. His relationship with Will filled his days and nights; even when his boyfriend wasn't physically with him, he carried Will in his heart.

He'd never expected that. He hadn't thought that any sort of _grande passion_ was for him; he had long since resigned him to knowing that he would never experience the feeling of falling deeply in love, as so many poets wrote about and endless songs celebrated.

That aeipathy, that enduing and consuming passion.

He had often read about it, and wonder if it was possible to find that sort of passion for himself, but he had always reluctantly acknowledge that it wasn't for him.

Then Will Graham burst into his life, like an angel with fiery wings, an angel who had captured his senses from the first moment he had gazed into those intensely blue eyes. Will was like a comet on his horizon, one that burned brightly, with a blazing light and heat.

He wanted to keep that comet in his sights forever, to never lose the warmth and light that surrounded it. Not having Will in his life would be a loss that he couldn't handle.

Just when had Will become so important to him?

He really couldn't answer that question, Hannibal mused. He didn't know at exactly what point Will became the focus of his life; Hannibal just knew that he had.

And he also knew that he didn't regret that focus, not one bit. How could he regret finding the aeipathy that he had always longed for but never believed that he could feel? It was a gift, being able feel to such enduring passion, such fierce and complete love.

It was said that serial killers were incapable of love, but he begged to differ. A killer he might be, but he _could_ change, if he chose to do so.

He _would_ change. He had already set his mind to doing that, and Will was far more than worth it. If that was what it took to keep Will, then it was done.

This wasn't giving up something that he'd grown used to doing, Hannibal told himself firmly. This was what he wanted to do, and what was needed. Rather than giving something up, he was growing into something new, something different, into his future.

A future that he had never thought he could have, a future that he was almost surprised to realized that he desperately wanted, more than he had ever wanted anything.

The past would be hard to put aside, but he would do just that.

The past couldn't have a hold on him any more. He had to turn away from it, and look towards what he and Will would build together.

That aeipathy, that consuming passion for Will, would become the center of his life, rather than the killing and preparation of food. Actually, Will already _was_ the center of his life. He had been turning away from the past more and more often lately.

It might be a struggle, and he had to remind himself that the future they would have was worth what he was leaving behind. But in the end, he would manage it.

Will was more important to him than anything else had ever been.

The passion that flowed between them was unlike anything Hannibal had ever known before. Of course, he had been with a myriad of lovers in the past -- both male and female -- but no one had ever moved him in the way that Will did. No one had ever touched his heart.

Through the years, he had begun to think that he had no heart to touch -- or at least, no emotions that he could think of as the more tender ones.

But Will had changed that. Will had turned him into a different person, a person who wanted to rediscover the man he was, a person who wanted to be better. He wanted to deserve Will's love; he wanted to make himself worthy of that emotion.

He wanted to be the man that Will needed. And he would do whatever it might take to become that man, no matter how hard it might be for him to do so.

He _would_ begin remaking himself, Hannibal vowed. Will would never have reason to think that he had returned to the past; he never would. It wouldn't be easy, he knew. It would be a struggle at times, and he knew that the temptation would be overwhelming.

Still, he would manage to resist that temptation. He had to.

If he didn't, then he had no doubt that he would lose Will -- and he couldn't live with that. He needed Will in his life, in his bed, in his arms, by his side.

What would his life be without this passion that had suddenly and unexpected blazed between the two of them? He would still be a lonely man, still keeping all of his secrets held close, not letting anyone into his life and keeping the world at arm's length.

He no longer wanted to live like that. He wanted to share everything with Will; he wanted to have complete honesty between them, for them to have no secrets from each other.

Again, it wouldn't be easy. But it could be done.

He would change, and he would prove to Will that it was possible. That is, if Will hadn't already decided to call Jack and turn him in.

If he had, then there would have to be retribution. He didn't want to think about that; he didn't want to think that he could wish his Will any kind of harm. He wanted to hold on to that aeipathy, to keep that enduring passion close to him, to nurture it and let it grow to something even more.

Hannibal hoped that he would have that chance. He would simply have to wait, and rely on Will to make the right decision, to give him the chance that he needed.

If he received that chance, then he definitely intended to make the most of it.


	13. Reversal of Circumstances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will makes the final decision about his relationship with Hannibal.

This was a reversal. One that felt very uncomfortable.

Will sighed softly, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair. He wasn't used to being the one who had the upper hand in this relationship.

Not that Hannibal kept him some kind of prisoner; no, exactly the opposite. He'd thought that their relationship was a good one -- until Hannibal's revelation, that is. It was still hard to believe that his lover had been keeping such a momentous secret from him.

 _How_ had Hannibal managed to keep something like that a secret? And _why_ would he do it? Why would he want their relationship to happen?

It didn't make sense fo Will.

Hannibal was a killer. He had admitted it. So why did he want to be involved with someone who he _knew_ would feel duty-bound to turn him over to the authorities?

Not only that -- but he was involved with someone who _was_ part of the authorities. Why would he wanted to have a relationship with someone who was obviously on a different side? And why had he been so careful to hide everything from Will?

He was actually surprised that he was still alive. Knowing that Hannibal was a serial killer, he should have been dead long since.

Was it because Hannibal was in love with him? Will's breathing quickened at the thought. Yes, Hannibal had said those three little words, more than once -- but Will had always wondered if he truly meant them, or if he only said them because it was what he was expected to say.

Now it seemed that Hannibal intended to give up his serial killing, to become what would be considered a "normal" person. For Will. Because he loved him.

Was that even possible? Will wasn't sure.

He didn't think it was. Once a serial killer, always a serial killer, he told himself with an inward sigh. Just like a leopard not changing its spots, he didn't believe that a killer could change. He'd had way too much experience with them to harbor such a vain hope.

But he _wanted_ to believe that Hannibal could change. He wanted to believe that this man actually wanted to change for him, so they could have a life together.

But was it possible, or even probable? Will slowly shook his head, closing his eyes. No. It wasn't. There might be something of a change for a while, but it wouldn't last. It couldn't. Hannibal couldn't change what he was, even if he truly wanted to do so.

It was no use to hope for the impossible.

Will bit his lip, almost hard enough to draw blood. The problem was that he didn't _want_ the idea of Hannibal changing to be impossible.

He wanted the two of them to keep their relationship going, for Hannibal to be able to throw aside the less palatable aspects of who he was and give up his secret life. He wanted them to move forward, to put this behind them and never speak of it again.

But they'd never be able to, and he knew it. He would always wonder if Hannibal had killed again, and if his boyfriend was still keeping secrets from him.

Suddenly, everything had gone pear-shaped. It was as though their lives had done a complete 360-degree turn, and everything was backwards.

This was a complete reversal of circumstances. Now, the power and control in the relationship didn't belong to Hannibal any longer; Will was the one who held that power, who had to make the deicsion as to what would happen, if they would continue or stop in their tracks.

 _He_ was the one who would determine their future. This was the point of no return, and he knew that he had to make the right decision.

But what was right for one of them wouldn't necessarily be right for the other.

Turning Hannibal in to the authorities was what he _should_ do. He knew that. It would keep him safe in the long run, and it would possibly keep other innocent people from losing their lives. It was the right thing to do; his mind screamed that fact at him.

He had gone past the point of no return and back, pondering over this, worrying, wondering just how he was supposed to make this kind of a decision.

It almost felt head, to have this kind of power, to know that _he_ was the one who would either guide their relationship into its nascent future, or bring it to an end. He'd never had that kind of power before, and he had to admit that it made him feel almost giddy.

Or it would, if the circumstances surrounding it weren't so serious.

Could he and Hannibal have a happy life? Could they put the past behind them and move on into the future? And more importantly, could he ever forget what he knew?

Will closed his eyes, the truth slowly seeping into his mind like a black, viscous poison. No, he couldn't just turn his back on all that he now knew about Hannibal. He could never make a life with someone who he knew such a dark secret about.

He would always wonder if Hannibal would revert to his old ways, and if he would be his lover's first victim. It wasn't something he could live with.

That fear would infuse every interaction with Hannibal. Even if their love for each other grew, it could never be fully pushed aside. It would always be there in the back of his mind, poisoning his every thought, his every action. It would never go away.

That wasn't a life. It would merely be an existence, a time bomb ticking down until the moment that the fuse lit and his life exploded around him.

Until the moment that Hannibal chose to end his life.

He couldn't live like that, Will told himself reluctantly. He would be living a lie, merely marking time while he waited for Hannibal to make a final, fatal move.

He'd never been a stupid person; he wasn't about to stick his head in a noose. If he didn't turn Hannibal in, then he had no doubt that he would eventually be a victim, and he didn't want to see himself in that light. He wasn't a victim. He was a survivor.

This meant that he would have to put the man he loved behind bars, turn his back on a future that had once looked so promising, a future that had once held the possibility of happiness.

But he could never be completely happy with Hannibal. Not now.

It was too late for happiness, Will told himself, sitting up with a sigh. That chance had passed them by, if it had ever existed at all.

He would never be happy with someone like Hannibal. He would never be sure if the love they shared would be enough to keep Hannibal from reverting back to what he had always been -- and he would never be able to feel safe with his lover again.

It wasn't a chance that he was willing to take. it wasn't a chance that anyone who was sane would dare to take. It was simply too risky, not only for himself, but for the world.

Turning Hannibal in was the right thing to do.

He hesitated even as he reached for his cell phone, but this time, he didn't put it back. He dialed Jack's number, speaking slowly at first, then rapidly as the story spilled out. And when he hung up, he knew that he had done the right thing.

And a part of him wondered if he would ever forgive himself for it.


	14. Love and Human Remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will knows that he's done the right thing to put Hannibal behind bars, but the memories of all that they shared in the past will haunt him forever.

Hannibal regarded Will sadly from the other side of the bars.

"This isn't how I wanted us to end, Will," he said sadly, shaking his head. "I had intended to stop, you know. You didn't even give me the chance."

"Do you honestly think you can change, Hannibal?" Will asked him, leaning forward in the chair that he was sitting in. "You're a killer. A serial killer. We both know that you couldn't change, even if you wanted to. You might say now that you would, but it isn't true."

Hannibal shook his head again, more vehemently this time. "For you, I would have managed to do so. You're underestimating the feelings I had for you, Will."

 _Had._ That word struck Will hard.

Hannibal no longer had feelings for him. Well, Will told himself, that wasn't strange. He couldn't expect any feelings to have survived his betrayal.

He didn't have the right to expect the love that Hannibal might have felt for him at one time to still be there, not now that he would spend the rest of his life behind bars, denied his freedom, with the world knowing just what he was. It was too much to ask.

Even the strongest love in the world couldn't survive something like that. And Will doubted that Hannibal's supposed love for him had been that strong to start with.

Hannibal had been infatuated with him, in love with the _idea_ of being in love. He had never truly loved Will; serial killers couldn't love. He might have thought, for a short period of time, that he would give up all that he was for love, but Will knew better.

And his own love for Hannibal? Had it survived all that they'd been through, and would it continue now that he could no longer indulge that love?

Of course not. His love had died when Hannibal had confessed to him.

When he looked at this man now, he felt none of the tender feelings he'd had for Hannibal before that fatal confession. All he felt was repulsion and disgust.

He had tried to hold on to the love he'd felt, but when he had discovered that Hannibal had created so many human remains, caused so much death and destruction and unhappiness, the love had fled, leaving him feeling empty and shell-shocked.

He hadn't expected to feel like that. He'd tried to deny that he did. But in the end, there had only been one choice for him, and he'd made it, albeit reluctantly.

He'd still felt that he owed Hannibal something.

Hannibal had been his first lover, his first love. For some reason, he'd felt that he owed this man for that, for all that they'd been to each other, all that they had shared.

Will had to turn his back on all of that, push the memories away, and do what he knew he had to do. If he hadn't turned Hannibal in, then he was sure that he would have eventually been just another victim, and that wasn't how he wanted his life to end.

It might seem romantic to some people, to be killed by the person who claimed to love him. But Will didn't intend to lose his life in such a fashion.

He didn't intend to lose his life at all, at least not for a very long time, and then he hoped that it would be to natural causes -- not being murdered by a serial killer.

Of course, given what he did for a living, the odds of him living to a ripe old age probably weren't all that good, he reflected. But at least he wouldn't lose his life at the hands of a former lover -- his first lover, at that -- and become nothing more than just another statistic.

No, tha wasn't going to happen to him. He'd done what he had to do, what was right, by putting Hannibal behind bars. He shouldn't regret it.

But he knew that he would always wonder about what could have been.

He would always wonder if Hannibal _had_ really loved him, and if he would have been able to change because of that love.

And he would always wonder if his own love for Hannibal could have been strong enough to overcome what he knew about his lover if he had made a very different decision. Could they have had a life together that ended with the proverbial happily ever after?

Well, there was no use wondering about it, Will told himself firmly. He would never know. What had been done was done, and they couldn't turn back time.

Nothing remained of the love that they had shared.

All that was left now were human remains, and the bits and pieces of the love he'd once had for Hannibal. Will was sure that Hannibal's feelings for him had already died.

If they had ever truly existed, that is, he thought to himself. He couldn't bring himself to look at the man who sat behind the bars; if he did, that love might start to pick itself up, and re-form from those bits and pieces. The remains might become animated again.

He didn't want that. He didn't want to feel anything for Hannibal other than the revulsion and disgust over all the things he'd done, the evil acts he had committed.

He couldn't let himself see Hannibal as a human being again. He couldn't let himself forget about all of those human remains, all of those people who had died needlessly at Hannibal's hands. He could never let himself forget that this man was a killer.

There was no going back, for either of them. Even if he could turn back the clock and change his decision, Will knew that he would never do so.

He had done the right thing. For himself, and for the world.

In time, nothing of the love would be remembered. He would be able to forget all that he and Hannibal had shared, the future he had at one time hoped they would build.

There was nothing left of that future now; it couldn't be built on human remains, which was what Hannibal had expected them to do. He might have been able to stop killing, to control his urges, but Will would have had to live with the knowledge that his lover _was_ a killer.

When he raised his head to look at Hannibal again, his emotions were masked. He was getting good at not letting his heart show in his eyes.

He would have to hide that heart away for the rest of his life.

He would never let anyone else touch his heart again. He'd learned the folly of doing that; never again would anyone ever get that close to him. Never.

"We could have had a wonderful future, Will." Hannibal's voice broke through his thoughts, but he still didn't look up at the other man. "I would have stopped. I would have loved you to distraction. But you couldn't trust me enough for that, could you?"

Finally, he made himself look up at Hannibal. And for the first time, he saw the darkness hidden behind his former lover's eyes, a darkness that would always be there.

Will knew in that moment that he had done the right thing.

"I could never have trusted you," he whispered, the words almost catching in his throat. "You destroyed us when you told me the truth. But I'm glad you did."

With those words, he rose to his feet, walking out of the room without a backward glance. He doubted that he would ever come here again. He didn't need to see Hannibal again, didn't need to be reminded of all that had been destroyed.

He didn't need to see Hannibal behind bars. It was enough to know that he was there. Will would forever see him as being in that prison, surrounded by human remains of his own making.

That was the only image of the past he wanted to keep in his mind for the rest of his life.


	15. Severed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is always going to feel guilty for turning Hannibal in to the authorities.

Severing his relationship with Hannibal was the hardest thing he had ever done.

Will sat on the couch in his living room, head back against the cushions, staring up at the ceiling. He felt numb, empty, bereft, completely at sea.

He hadn't realized that giving up their relationship would make him feel so .... so _lost_. He hadn't known just how much Hannibal had meant to him until his lover hadn't been a part of his life any more.

Had he done the right thing? Or was he always going to regret this, always going to feel the emptiness that loomed in front of him now, like a yawning chasm just waiting for him to fall in? Was he going to feel this numb for the rest of his life?

Will sighed softly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. No, he couldn't always feel like this. Not when he _knew_ beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had made the right decision.

If he hadn't turned Hannibal in, he would have killed again. He might have tried not to, but he a serial killer. He wasn't going to change.

It didn't matter how much he _wanted_ to. It wasn't possible.

Or was it? Will asked himself. Was he wrong? Would Hannibal's love for him have overcome all those years of killing, made him turn his back on it?

Should he have trusted Hannibal? Should he have tried to make himself believe that the other man _could_ have changed, and put his life into his lover's hands? Or had he done what was best, not only for himself, but for the rest of the world?

He wanted to think that he'd done the right thing. In his more rational moments, he was sure that he had, and he didn't feel more than a twinge of regret.

It was only on nights like this, when he was missing Hannibal and the closeness they had shared, when he ached to be in his lover's bed, in his arms, that he felt he'd made a mistake, and that he'd thrown away the most important thing in his life.

It wasn't just the sex, or even the emotion. It was the fact that Hannibal had _known_ him. Hannibal had understood him in a way that no one else had.

He'd never find that again, not with anyone.

Will felt that he'd lost something very precious, let it slip through his fingers without fully appreciating it. Only now, when it was gone, did he realize just how much he had lost.

He would never find anyone else who understood him as Hannibal did, who wanted to get inside his head and know just what made him tick. Other people didn't care enough to try; they might find him interesting, but they didn't focus on him in the way that Hannibal did.

Had Hannibal loved him? Or was he only obsessed? That was hard to know, but Will liked to think that he _had_ been loved, if only briefly.

If Hannibal _had_ truly loved him, maybe he _would_ have been able to stop killing, and they'd have been able to make a life together. But he would never know now.

 _Was_ Hannibal capable of love? Or had all of those whispered words in the dark, after they'd made love and he was lying in Hannibal's arms, sated and happy, been nothing more than mere words, without any deeply felt emotions behind them at all?

That was another thing that he would never know, Will thought with a pang of regret. And it wasn't as though he could ask Hannibal for the truth now.

He would never know if Hannibal had ever really loved him.

it was probably better that he didn't know, Will reflected. Because if the answer was in the negative, then it would be a burning pain in his soul for the rest of his life.

This way, he could let himself think that Hannibal _had_ loved him -- and that way, he could take the guilt of betrayal onto himself. He wouldn't have to live with the hurt of knowing that the love he'd counted on, that had meant so much to him, hadn't really existed.

Severing the relationship quickly and cleanly had been the best thing he could have done for himself. That way, the pain was intense for a moment, and then ti would fade away.

But would it? he asked himself, heaving a deep sigh. Would he ever be the same again, now that he'd found out what it was like to love, and had lost that love? Other people survived that kind of a loss, but then again, other people usually didn't wait so long to find love.

He'd waited all of his life to find not only someone who loved him in the physical sense, but someone who _understood_ him. He didn't think he would ever find that again.

No one else could ever be what Hannibal had been to him.

There was no use trying to pretend that he could have another love in his life; Will knew that it wasn't going to happen. Hannibal had been the one and only.

He hated the fact that he'd fallen in love with someone who didn't deserve that love, someone who might not ever have truly loved him back. But that was what had happened.

He couldn't change the past, no matter how much he might have wanted to. He couldn't have made things work out any differently; in the end, Hannibal would have done whatever he wanted to, and Will would have been helpless to affect the outcome.

It was best that he had severed their relationship. It was best for him, best for his heart. And in doing so, he had probably managed to save his own life.

But that wasn't going to stop him from wishing that things could have been different, and missing what he and Hannibal had shared.

And it wouldn't stop him from feeling guilty for the rest of his life.


End file.
